One Last Breath
by purplepagoda
Summary: She tries to obtain the only thing that she thinks is permanent. What if one phone call ruins her plan? Can he convince her that there are other things in her life that can be permanent? Or will it be too late to save her?
1. One Last Breath

She sits at her kitchen table. The tears fall her eyes. A cup of tea sits, untouched. The bag still sits in the cup, but the mug is cold now. Finally she had realized the truth. The thing that she had been searching, for, she finally realized, that it was around her, all along. There was no denying it. The only thing that was ever permanent. She stares at the shiny metallic object, on the table.

The cold metal reminds her of the truth. Her whole life had been cold, now... she was going to feel something, if only for an instant. Her hand shakes, she feels broken. She feels weak. She pulls the object towards her.

She plays out the scene in her mind. With one swift movement, she would feel it. She would feel the pain, for one instant. Warm liquid would pour from her, and it would all be over. Finally she would have the one thing, in life that was permanent.

She swallows hard, ignoring the tears trailing down her cheek. The cool metal, presses against her temple. Her fingers know this weapon intimately. It would be an hour before anyone came. It would take them that long to realize that something was wrong. She stares at her phone, willing to ring. She begs for one reason, not to embrace the only permanent thing she knew.

He focuses on the road, as he drives. He stops at the stoplight. He stares at the phone in his cup holder. His gut tells him something isn't right. The light turns green, and he moves through the intersection. He pulls the phone to his ear, and he dials a number, the first one he can think of.

She stares at the phone on her kitchen table, in disbelief. It rings. Her hand shakes as she places it to her ear.

"Hello?" she manages to choke out.

From the sound of her voice he can tell something is wrong, that she has been crying, "Are you ok?"

"I will be," she replies.

"I don't believe you."

She swallows hard, "Please...come here, now," she begs.

"I am on my way."

"I don't know how long I can wait."

"Please wait for me," he begs.

"I will try," she hangs up.

He reaches her apartment, two minutes later. He takes the stairs, foregoing the elevator. He stops at her door, and opens it. He finds that it is unlocked. The scene before him disturbs him. He finds her sitting in a chair, at the kitchen table. She stares at him, through a sea of tears. She holds the sig to her head. Her hand doesn't move from the trigger. She doesn't say a word. He doesn't either. Without a second thought he walks over to her. He slips the gun out of her hand. He places it on the table. He removes the magazine, and makes sure that the chamber is empty.

He pushes her chair out, and kneels beside her. She sobs, uncontrollably. He wraps his arms around her. He holds her tightly, unwilling to let go. He pets her hair. Finally after several moments he lets go.

Finally he asks, "What are you doing?"

"I..." she takes a breath, "I'm sorry."

"What were you thinking?" he questions genuinely.

"I was sitting her, with my cup of tea, and finally it hit me..."

"What hit you?"

"I want something permanent. I have been looking for that, for so long. And this morning I finally realized, there is only one thing in life that is permanent, and that is death."

"You're wrong," he tells her matter-of-factly as he wipes the tears from her eyes.

"I am not wrong."

"Change is permanent, death is permanent, there are a lot of things in this life that are permanent."

"I..."

"This has to stop. You have to stop keeping everything inside. You are not this person. You have to start talking to someone, anyone. This is not something you can take back. I can't believe that you ever thought this was ok. This is not the only way. This is not the only thing."

"Tell me what else is permanent? What else in this life is permanent?"

He looks into her pained brown eyes. He pushes her bangs out of her eyes. He smiles, "I'll tell you what else is permanent. In life there is only one important thing, that is permanent."

"What is that?"

"Love. Some will try, and many will fail. But when you find the one, you never let them go. You fight for them, with them, if you have to, but you never let them go. Love, it lasts longer than life. Do you understand me?"

"No," she admits.

"I am the one who is sorry. I am the one who needs to apologize. You should know that no matter what. No matter what you do, or what you say. No matter how much I screw up. No matter how many times I say, or do the wrong thing. No matter what, I love you. Nothing will ever change that. Not even you. You will not take you away from me, do you understand that? What I told you is true. I cannot live without you. I will not live without you."

"I'm broken, how can you say that?"

"I love all of you, even the broken pieces, that you never let me see."

"How can you say that?"

"Cause the broken pieces, the ones that can't be fixed, they make you who you are. They make you the woman that I love."

She leans forward. He meets her, in an embrace. She lets the tears flow, freely.

"I need help," she admits.

"That's why I'm here."

She clings to him.

"Just promise me, that you aren't going to leave me. I can't handle that," he pleads.

"I promise," she agrees.


	2. Whiskey Lullaby

She wakes up in a cold sweat. She rolls onto her side. She opens her eyes. She lies on the couch. The room is dimly lit by a lamp. She feels panic coursing through her veins.

"Hey," his voice instantly soothes her, "You're ok. I'm here."

She sits up, and he comes into the living room, from the kitchen, and sits down next to her.

"I..."

He cuts her off, "Don't break the rules."

"You were right."

"How long has this been going on?"

"What?"

"How long have you been thinking..."

"No... it isn't like that. I have been..."

"There are things that you haven't been telling me."

"Yes," she nods.

"Like the drinking?"

She stares at him, silently.

"You don't remember how you got on the couch, do you?"

She shakes her head.

"You passed out. How much have you been drinking?" he finishes, but she doesn't reply.

"We all have vices, but this is started to get out of hand. I am putting an end to this."

"What did you do?" She wonders.

"I emptied your cabinets. Where else should I look?"

She stares at him, in a shameful silence.

"Let me tell you all the places that I've already looked. Under the couch, in all of your drawers. In your closet, under the bed, in the bathroom. Is there anywhere else I should look?"

"No."

"You wouldn't lie to me?"

"No."

"Ok."

"You're disappointed?"

"Ziva I am confused. Why didn't you say something to me, before it got this bad? How long has this been going on?"

"I thought that I had control of it, but it just kept getting worse."

"You can't forget. No matter how much you drink, you are never going to forget."

"I know that, but..."

"The only way to get free, is to let it go."

"I don't know how."

"Talk to me."

"I can't."

"You don't trust me?"

"I trust you, with my life."

"You are afraid that I'll hurt you?"

"I know that you won't."

"You're scared that I'll betray you?"

"No."

"Then, what? Ziva why can't you talk to me? Are you afraid that I won't understand? Please tell me," he begs.

"I am afraid that you'll never look at me the same. I am afraid that you won't like who I am, anymore."

"Do you like you?"

"No. I don't like who I am, anymore. I am trying to be someone else, but I don't know how."

"Just tell me."

"I never sleep, because I know that if I sleep I will dream. If I dream I am right back there. I am back to being a victim, I am not a victim. I sleep with a gun under my pillow, I had almost gotten over that. I am afraid that I'll wake up, and... I'll still be a prisoner."

"You are still a prisoner."

She looks at him questioningly.

"You are still your own prisoner."

"How do I change that, when I am the guard, and the warden, too?"

"You have to make yourself believe that you deserve to be free."

"I do not know that I do."

"You do, but you have to convince yourself of that."

She blinks, trying to keep the tears at bay. He touches her cheek with his fingers. "It is ok to cry. You don't have to be anyone other than yourself, around me."

"I..."

"You are a human being, not a robot. You have emotions. I know that you are afraid to show them, you are afraid of where they might take you, but you've got to let it out."

She nods. The tears fall. He never takes his eyes off of her. As the tears reach her chin, she finally unfreezes. She wraps her arms around him, holding on tightly. She buries her face in his shoulder. He holds her closely.

"I will never leave you. No matter what you tell me, I am not going anywhere."

"Why do you believe in me?" she asks him in a small voice.

"You are the strongest person I know."

"I am not strong," she argues.

"You're alive. Anyone else would be dead."

"I am still breathing, that is all. Most of the time I feel dead, inside."

"No, you're not. Numb, yes, but not dead."

"Why are you here? Why are you doing this?"

"Because you need me."

"But..."

"That is all it takes."

"I'm afraid that I am never going to be normal. I am scared that I'm never going to be anything more than what..."

He interjects, "You are not Eli. Do you hear me? You are not him. You are a good person."

"A good person? Do you know how many lives I have taken?"

"Ziva, I know what you have done, but you only see the bad."

"What good is there? What have I done, to make up for the bad?"

"You have helped bring murderers to justice."

"I am a murderer."

"That was a job, that is not who you are."

"Tony..."

He brushes the hair out of her face. "Yes?"

"There is something that I never told you."

"What's that?"

"Tali..." she begins.

"Your sister?"

She nods. "Her death was my fault."

"How was it your fault?"

"I was supposed to take out the group of people that killed her."

"What happened?"

"I had a concussion. I didn't wake up that morning, like I was supposed to. If I had just..."

"That is not your fault."

"My siblings, both of their deaths, they are my fault."

"No. They are not."

"I killed my own brother. He was not a good person, and I would do it over a million times, for Gibbs, but he was still my brother."


	3. Get Off On The Pain

He goes into the bathroom to pee. He pees, and then goes to the sink, to wash his hands. He pulls open a drawer. He stares past the hand towels. He feels her pain, when he sees it. He swallows hard, and turns towards the doorway. He finds it hard to breathe, as he says her name.

"Ziva? Come in here," he says flatly.

She stops in the doorway. Her face is tear-stained. She tries to fight the feeling of emptiness, as he stares at her. She feels his eyes boring through her, in disappointment. Her glance falls to the floor. She finds herself unable to look him in the eyes.

He holds up the baggy. He tries to swallow the anger, but it wells up, and jumps out of his throat.

"What is this?"

"Nothing I say is going to make you any less angry right now," she answers.

"Why do you have this?"

"I... I don't know. I thought that maybe, if I took enough I could make it all go away. I thought that I could make it all disappear."

"And did it work?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I did not use any of it. I know that you probably don't believe me, but it's true."

He flushes it down the toilet. She doesn't move. She stands in the doorway, staring at him, hollowly. He looks up at her. Her head hangs in disappointment, in herself. Shame, for disappointing him. He moves towards her. He stops when he is toe to toe with her.

She doesn't make eye contact. She fixates on the grout line, between the tile on the floor. He pushes the hair out of her face. She doesn't react. He touches her chin. He tilts it towards him.

"Look at me," he insists.

She looks at him, her eyes laden with unshed tears. She chokes them back. Her breathing is uneven, as she whispers, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"I'm sorry that you ever met me," she replies, and the tears fall down her cheeks.

"No, never be sorry for that."

"I'm sorry for all of the things that I've put you through. I'm sorry that I drug you into this. I'm sorry for disappointing you. I'm sorry for everything."

"The only person you need to apologize to, is you."

"Me?"

"You need to stop treating yourself like this. You need to stop hating yourself."

"I don't know how."

"Why can't you see what everyone else sees?"

"A failure?"

"You always see the worst in yourself. Ziva, you are the strongest person I know."

"Strongest? I am not strong. I am weak. Look at where we are. You refuse to leave, because you are afraid that I am going to do something to hurt myself. You are afraid that I will overdose, or drink, until I stop breathing. You are afraid that I am going to put a bullet in my brain. I am afraid of that too. How is that strong?"

"Because you asked for help."

"That does not make me strong?"

"You can't rely on yourself for everything. Sometimes you need help. It takes a lot of strength to admit that."

"You shouldn't be here. You don't need to stay here. I will be fine."

"If you believe that you wouldn't let me stay."

"Let you stay? I can't make you leave."

"You could, but I don't think that you really want to."

"If I did, you would already be gone."

"And so would you."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you feel like you need to save me? What have I done to deserve that?"

"You would do the same for me."

"Why does that matter?"

"That's all that matters."

"I just... I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"Let me help you."

"I don't even know where to start."

"You sleep."

"Sleep? Do you know how long it's been, since I slept?"

"Can I guess?"

She simply shrugs.

"Paris. That was the last time you slept."

She nods, tears still falling.

He points to her bed, "Go."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stay here, while you sleep."

"You're going to stay until I fall asleep?"

"No. I'm going to stay until you're ready for me to go."

"Why are you doing this for me?"

"I can't live without you."

"That isn't true."

"Ziva I have been where you are. I have woken up, and thought, I can't do this anymore."

"What changed?"

"I changed. I knew that I had to get you back."

"You felt that way because of me?"

"Yes. I couldn't do this, without you."

"Why do you think that?"

"We're like hot, and cold, without one, the other is meaningless. Without you, I'm not really me. That's why I'm here. It's selfish, really. I need you."

She reaches out. She wraps herself around him. He holds her close. In a small voice she admits, "I need you too."

He kisses the top of her head. "I know."

"But..."

"And I'm glad that you do."

"I..."

"Stop arguing. Stop fighting this."

He lets go of her. He steps past her, taking a hold of her hand, in the process. He tugs on her hand, and she follows him. "Now, you sleep," he stops in front of her bed.


	4. Nobody But Me

She rolls over, and he stares at her. Her breathing slows. It wasn't a dream, but it wasn't exactly real, either. He was there with her, he would always be there, for her, but they could never have, what she wanted them to have. Right now, though, none of that mattered, because she just needed him. She needed him, to be there, with her. She was weak right now, and she needed to borrow some strength from him. She looks past him, at the clock.

"You ready?"

"Yes," she answers.

"Are you sure? You don't have to go if..."

"I have to go."

"Ok. Just remember, I'll be with you, every step of the way."

"You always are."

Half an hour later, she comes out of her bathroom. He sits at her kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. She stops in front of him. She looks at him in disgust. She raises an eyebrow. He braces himself for whatever she's about to say.

"What did you do with my mouthwash?"

"I didn't want to take any chances."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No."

"It's not like I'm going to go in the bathroom, and chug it."

"I..."

"Tony, I know that I'm in a... rough place right now. I hate admitting that. I hate feeling vulnerable, feeling weak, but I'm not that weak."

"Give it a couple of days."

She furrows her brow, in confusion.

"In two days you're going to want to chug the mouthwash. You're going to be cranky, and irritable, and want to punch me. You're going to beg me to let you have just one drink, and I'm not going to let that happen."

"I'm fine."

"How many times do you have to tell yourself that?"

Her face turns towards his. She shoots him a _point taken_ look. "Until it's true," she admits.

"Can we go now?"

"Yes."

They arrive at the Navy Yard, together. They ride the elevator, together. McGee watches them as they walk into the squad room, together. He quickly looks away. He says nothing. The truth was, he didn't want to know. They sink into their seats, across the aisle way from one another. They have barely sat down, when Gibbs walks into the room. He looks at Tony, and then to Ziva. He walks past them, to his own desk. He takes a seat, and the phone rings. He listens intently, and then mumbles something, and hangs up. He turns towards them. They jump up, and grab their bags.

"Where are the two of you going?"

Tony answers, "I thought that we had a case."

"Yeah, we do."

"So where are we going?" Tony questions.

"The world doesn't stop, just because the two of you aren't here. We don't have a new case. It's the same case that we had yesterday."

"Oh, so who was on the phone?"

Ziva returns to her seat.

"It was Abby she was calling me with some things that she found out."

"Oh?"

"McGee, take Ziva."

"Where?"

"An AA meeting," he answers.

Ziva looks at him in bewilderment. There was no way that he could know.

Gibbs looks at McGee, "It seems that our dead petty officer went to AA, every morning. It's at this church," he hands McGee a piece of paper, with a name scrawled on it, "on M street," he adds.

As they pull onto the curb McGee turns, to look at her. She puts the car into park. She waits for him to speak. He says nothing.

"Something on your mind, McGee?"

"You, ok?"

"Yes," she answers too quickly, opening the door, to get out of the car.

"Ziva, the truth," he asks, as they step onto the sidewalk.

"I will be fine," she replies.

"Ok. If you need anything..."

"I'll let you know," she assures him, as they move towards the church. McGee stops, at the doors of the church. He turns to Ziva,

"So what's the plan?"

"I have an idea."

"Are you going to share?"

"I think you should wait in the car."

"Ziva..."

"McGee, please."

"Ok," he nods, he turns, and walks away. She pulls the door open, and steps into the church. She checks her watch as she heads down the hallway. She stops at a room, and pulls open the doors. A group of people, sitting in a circle of chairs, in the center of the room, turn, and look at her. She doesn't say anything, she just looks at the faces around her.

"Would you like to join us? We're just getting started, and there's an empty seat next to Judy," one of them speaks up.

"Ok," she nods, quickly making her way, towards the empty chair. She takes a seat next to a woman, who is presumably, Judy. On the other side of her sits a young man, about twenty, with dark hair.

"I see a couple fresh faces, why don't you introduce yourself," he looks at the young man sitting next to Ziva.

"I'm Grant."

"Hi, Grant," they greet in unison.

He nods to Ziva, "And you?"

"I'm Ziva," she answers.

"Hi, Ziva."

"Who wants to start? Grant would you like to start?"

"There's not a whole lot to say. I'm an alcoholic. My parents are both alcoholics, my grandparents, my brother. I come from a family of them. Sometimes it feels out of my control."

"And you," he looks at Ziva.

"I am not sure where to start."

"You could admit the problem," he suggests.

"I'm an alcoholic."

"Why are you an alcoholic?"

"I could come up with reasons, and make some good excuses, but the truth is, there is nobody but me, to blame.


	5. For My Broken Heart

She rubs the palm of her hand, avoiding eye contact.

"I know that I cannot drown my sorrows, but I tried anyway."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I guess that I drink, to forget."

"Does that work, for you?"

"I can never drink that much."

"But you've tried?"

"Yes. I thought that I could handle it. I thought that I could quit, whenever I wanted. That was not the case. It began to consume me."

"It interfered with your life, your job?"

"I never let it interfere with my job. I am good at hiding things. Too, good, I guess. No one knew. I have never been any good, at asking for help. I do not like to admit that I need help, ever."

"So what changed? What brought you here?"

"Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to hide, someone sees the truth. Someone sees what we're hiding, and tries to save us, from ourselves."

"We are our own worst enemies," a group member agrees.

After the meeting concludes, some of them stick around, and chat, over cookies, an coffee. Ziva approaches the man who had led the meeting.

"Your first meeting?" he guesses.

"Yes," she nods.

"I get the feeling that you are here looking for answers."

"Probably a different kind of answers, than you might think."

"Oh?"

She flashes a badge. She pulls out a picture. She holds it out, for him to see.

"I need you to tell me about Officer Hayley."

"I can't tell you anything."

"I need you to tell me about Petty Officer Nathan Hayley."

"This is alcoholics anonymous. Emphasis on anonymous."

"He is dead," Ziva reveals, "I need to know why someone would want him dead."

"Nate made some bad choices, but he didn't have any enemies."

"Obviously, he did, or he would not be dead."

"He was murdered?"

"We have to investigate all of the possibilities," she admits.

"You should talk to Katie Holden. She's the mother of his son. They had some issues. You may also want to speak to Chris Carter. He and Nate used to be best friends. They wend into the Navy together."

"What happened?"

"Katie Holden."

"I'm sorry?"

"Katie and Chris were planning on getting married. Nate came home on leave, and he got Katie pregnant. There is a lot of bad blood, between the three of them."

"So why did Petty Officer Hayley..."

He answers before she can finish the question, "PTSD. He drank to get away, but it never worked. He was in a rough place. When he found out that he had a son, he started to turn his life around."

"That has been very helpful, thank you."

"If you need anything else, let me know."

"I didn't catch your name," she admits.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I'm Cameron McKenzie. Here is my business card," he hands her a card.

She looks at it, and them at him, "You're a therapist?"

"Yes."

"Were you Petty Officer Hayley's therapist?"

"I cannot disclose that."

"Then I will be back, with a subpoena."

"I will gladly comply," he smiles.

"I will be back."

"I look forward to seeing you at my office."

"Right."

"And if you ever need to talk..."

"I don't," she shakes her head, and leaves the room.

She exits the church, and makes her way back to the car. She climbs in, next to McGee. He look at her, expectantly.

"Well? Did you get anything."

"Yes."

"Are you going to share?"

"We're going to need a subpoena."

"For?"

"Dr. Cameron McKenzie."

"Who?"

"The petty officer's therapist."

"He was there?"

"Apparently he leads the meetings, twice a week."

"Did he give anything up?"

"He suggested that we look at Katie Holden, and Chris Carter. Chris was Petty Officer Hayley's best friend. Katie Holden was Chris' fiance. Katie is the mother of Petty Officer Hayley's son."

"Chris stole her from Petty Officer Hayley?"

"No. I believe it was the other way around."

"Well, there's motive. I have the addresses here."

"Where are we headed?"

"Alexandria."

"Ok."

"Ziva?"

"Huh?"

"Do you have to drive?"

"No," she shakes her head, "Do you want to drive?"

"I just ate, and..."

"Fine," she rolls her eyes, and vacates her seat. He gets into the drivers seat. As he turns the engine on she shoots him a look.

"What?"

"You're turning into Tony."

"Am not," he argues.

"You certainly do complain as much as he does."

"I do not."


End file.
